


Oversights

by RyoSen



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:57:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyoSen/pseuds/RyoSen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:   CJ and the gang discuss Mossad, Republican boyfriends, the lack of phone calls, the chemical abbreviation for tin, and the relative merits of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Only not really, but I'll get to that in a minute...  Post-ep for "On the Day Before."</p><p>Originally Posted:  15 Nov 2001.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oversights

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. 
> 
> Thanks: To Jo, for rocking in all manner of ways. To Morgan, for not stalking for a whole day. Also for help with the summary. ;) And to Meg, for kickass suggestions.

"NaCl."

"We know," Toby mutters.

CJ ignores his attitude and tells Sam. "NaCl. Natrium Chloride." Toby's couch is damn comfortable; she sinks further into its depths.

"Yes," Sam nods, grinning a little. He's still standing over near the bookshelves, probably far too excited by the politicking he did earlier to sit down yet. "Table salt."

CJ frowns. "Do you think other kinds of salt have different abbreviations?"

"There are other kinds of salt?" Sam asks.

"There could be." CJ shrugs. "Where's Josh?"

Sam exchanges a look with Toby. "He went back to his office."

"He's brooding," CJ surmises.

Toby groans. "CJ, don't--"

"I wonder why he's brooding. He kicked some ass on the Buckland thing."

Sam straightens a little bit. "Not as much ass as we--"

"Sam." Toby gives him a pained look. He's sitting behind his desk scribbling on a yellow legal pad and trying to look like he's not damn proud of Sam for the ass-kicking.

CJ grins at him. "You're just grumpy 'cause you didn't think of it yourself."

"I'm really not."

"Sure you are."

Toby glances over at me. "Hey, CJ, what's the chemical abbreviation of Tin?"

Damn. She hates when he does that. "You," I tell them, struggling upright, "are no fun."

Sam smiles at me, the full wattage, I-should-be-on-the-cover-of-Vanity-Fair version. "So you're going to go brood with Josh? Gee, that sounds fun."

CJ ignores him and sweep out of Toby's office. Nodding to Bonnie and some guy whose name may be Fred, she weaves her way to the Operations bullpen. Carol is shrugging into her coat when CJ reaches her office.

"CJ, Donna wanted to talk to you if you have a second."

"Sure. Hey, Carol?"

She turns back, one hand resting on the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"You wouldn't happen to know the chemical abbreviation of Tin, would you?"

Carol shrugs. "Tn?"

"You're no help."

"Did the chemistry guy--"

"Dr. Kary B. Mullis?"

"Yes, Dr. Mullis. Did he quiz you at dinner?"

"No," CJ frowns.

"Toby quizzed you?" she guesses, and CJ just glares. "Well," Carol grins, "let me just run home and grab my copy of the periodic table--"

"Good night, Carol." CJ waves her away.

"I'll send Donna in."

"Right," she answers, distractedly. The late wires are in, and AP is reporting that Mossad agents quashed a haphazard plot to kill Abdul Mujeeb just after he was transferred into Israeli custody. Damn. CJ really doesn't want to call the press corps back. She flips on the TVs, one to CNN, one to MSNBC, and one to BBC's satellite feed.

"CJ?"

Donna's standing in the doorway, her smile obviously forced, and CJ has a bad feeling about this. "Come on in."

Donna edges into the office, softly closing the door behind her. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Carol mentioned." CJ waves her towards the couch. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know the chemical abbreviation for Tin, would you?"

"No," Donna answers, frowning. "I could find out, though."

"It's not important." CJ settles next to Donna on the couch, leaning back tiredly. "Look, Donna, I may have a thing--"

"I can go," she offers, moving to rise.

"No." CJ touches her arm; her muscles are tense. "Just--" CJ grins. "Could you make it the short version?"

"Sure." She looks like she's going to be sick. "The short version is that Ainsley set me up with a Republican lawyer who, as it turns out, just got transferred to Oversight."

Oh, shit. CJ rubs the pressure point between her thumb and first finger, which Ginger swears is supposed to stave off headaches. It doesn't seem to be working.

"CJ, I only saw him twice--"

"Does Josh know?"

Donna glances away.

"Donna, you have to--"

"I told him," she answers quietly. "He knows."

The reason for Josh's brooding is suddenly very clear. CJ makes a mental note to talk to him before she leaves which, at this point, may be tomorrow morning. "What did he--"

"I'm not going to see him again," Donna snaps.

CJ abandons the pressure point and rubs her temple directly. "I'm sorry, Donna, but you really can't--"

"I know."

"At least not until--"

Donna slaps the armrest with her hand, and her voice is shaking with anger when she says, "I'm not going to see him again, CJ."

CJ's mouth drops open. "Okay."

Donna lets her breath out slowly. "I'm sorry. It's just--" She shrugs. "We talked about books, CJ. About how Fitzgerald rocks and how James Joyce is highly overrated. He loves George Cukor movies. It was just... refreshing to have this one thing that wasn't about politics and investigations and hearings and--" She stops short and gives me a pleading look. "It was just... an apolitical moment, you know?"

CJ raises an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, because if you had discussed politics--"

"He's a Republican; he's not Jesse Helms," Donna interrupts, frustrated.

"Okay."

"Really," Donna insists. "He's moderate."

CJ nods. "Whatever. But the important thing is--"

"He's on Oversight, I know." Donna slumps into the couch. "And I'm not going to see him again."

"Okay." CJ lets the silence build a little, suspicious that Republican Lawyer Guy's excellent taste in movies isn't the only thing bothering Donna.

 _My queendom for a Tylenol with codeine_ , CJ thinks.

Donna's hands twist together in her lap and she looks over at CJ. "It's just Josh--" A sharp knock at the door startles her, and she freezes, eyes wide.

Josh pokes his head in the door. "CJ--" He sees Donna and stops short, his expression hardening.

Donna stands and gives CJ a wobbly smile. "I'm going."

Josh holds the door partially open, forcing her to squeeze past. His gaze follows his assistant until CJ stands, breaking his concentration. He stares at CJ for a moment, his brain shifting gears. "There's a thing--"

"Mossad?" CJ tilts her head towards the TV.

"Yeah."

She grabs a notepad and pen from the desk. "Leo's office?"

"Yeah." Josh hesitates in the doorway, blocking her exit. "Donna told you--"

"About the Republican? Yeah."

His mouth tightens into a look of supreme distaste. "I can't believe she--"

"Josh," CJ interrupts. "You need to handle this as her boss."

His forehead crinkles. "What's that supposed--"

"Josh."

"CJ, she--"

"Do not talk to me about this," CJ warns him. "I know all I need to know if I get the question. Beyond that..."

"Yeah," Josh mutters, stepping aside. "Beyond that."

CJ heads for Leo's office, Josh catching up quickly. "You're her boss," she repeats. "Act like it."

Before he can reply, CJ veers into Leo's office. Sam and Toby are already there. Josh wanders in, slipping into a seat at the small conference table. CJ indicates the Oval Office. "Is the President--"

"He's in the Residence with the First Lady," Leo answers, rising from his seat.

"Is she feeling better?"

Leo stares at me.

"I was just asking."

"Do I look like a doctor?"

"Not especially."

Rolling his eyes, Leo rounds the edge of his desk, joining his staff in the limited open space. "AP's reporting that seven Mossad agents thwarted an attempt to kill Abdul Mujeeb as he was being handed over to the Israelis."

Toby frowns. "Why would the Palestinian Freedom Front want to kill Abdul Mujeeb?"

Sam shrugs. "Maybe because he authorized targeting American citizens. That's not their usual M.O."

"True," CJ acknowledges. "But there's no evidence he did authorize it. The bomber couldn't have known for sure there'd be Americans at the café."

Toby glances over at Leo. "Did the Prime Minister tell the President any details?"

"He hasn't called," Leo answers.

There's a shocked silence.

"The Prime Minister hasn't called?" CJ echoes.

Josh glances up; apparently he's done staring listlessly at the tabletop. "Wait -- Mossad moved against the Palestinian Freedom Front on Palestinian soil and Levin didn't call?"

"Nope," Leo says.

CJ and Toby exchange uncomfortable looks. "What do you think that means?" Toby asks.

"It could be an oversight," Sam suggests.

"An oversight?" Toby repeats. "You really think Prime Minister Levin would forget to call the President?"

Sam looks offended. "Well, he does have a bit of a crisis to handle."

"Regardless," Leo interrupts the burgeoning argument. "Nancy's on her way, but for now--"

"We don't know anything," CJ guesses. "No official confirmation, and we can't speculate as to--"

"Right," Leo nods. "I've got to talk to the President. CJ--"

"The lid stays on unless and until the Prime Minister officially--"

"Good," Leo says, pushing away from his desk. "Now go."

* * *

"Stannum."

CJ turns to find Donna shadowing her steps, notepad in hand. CJ doesn't slow down, even though she's walking sideways, which is not really her strong suit. "Excuse me?"

"Stannum," Donna repeats, pulling even so CJ no longer has to mince along in awkward, crab-like fashion.

CJ frowns. "Okay."

"It's Latin," Donna explains with an expectant look.

"That's nice," CJ decides.

"CJ, Sn, the abbreviation for tin? It comes from the Latin word stannum."

"Ah," CJ answers, reaching her office. "Stannum?"

"Yes." Donna hovers in the doorway. "Also, tin's atomic number is fifty."

"Atomic number?" CJ asks, flipping through the stack of messages on her desk. Steve from AP called for a comment on the thing in Palestine. CJ rubs half-heartedly at her throbbing head.

"The number of protons."

Blinking, she looks over at Donna. "What?"

"The atomic number of an element is the number of protons in its nucleus."

CJ considers that for a moment. "Okay, so tin has fifty protons in its nucleus?"

"Yes. Also, it has an atomic weight of one 118.71."

"118.71?"

Donna nods.

"118.71 what, exactly?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, it can't be 118 pounds, right?"

"Oh." Donna squints down at her notepad. "Um..."

"You know what? I'm pretty sure I don't care about the unit of measurement for the atomic weight of tin."

"Angstroms, I think."

CJ's eye starts to twitch. "You did a little bit of research on this."

"A little." Donna shrugs.

"See, but I don't think I'm really going to need to know anything else about tin."

"Fine," Donna sniffs. "But I could also tell you the oxidation states, melting point, boiling point, sources--"

CJ holds up a hand just to make Donna stop. "Did you somehow cram a semester of chemistry in while I was in Leo's office? Because I could have sworn I was only gone a few minutes."

Donna smiles at me. "Just a little bit of research."

Over her shoulder, Steve from AP appears, giving CJ a questioning look. CJ turns to Donna and lifts her chin slightly.

Donna nods, understanding. "I'll go."

"Wait." CJ stands and holds out her hand. "Can I see your notes?"

Donna grins outright. "You're going to tell Toby the oxidation states, aren't you?" She rips off the top sheet and hands it to CJ. "I make no promises of legibility."

"Thanks," CJ calls after her.

Steve indicates Donna with a tilt of his head. "Oxidation states?"

"Yes," CJ answers. "The oxidation states for tin are +2 and +4." She looks a little more closely at the sheet of paper and frowns. "Unless those are little T's. It's not possible that an oxidation state would be t4, is it?"

Steve shrugs. "I really have no idea."

"Yeah, me neither." She settles back into her chair, putting Donna's illegible chemistry notes aside. This might get ugly, and she needs to not be thinking about tin.

Steve looks almost bored as he launches into his question. "CJ, I need the White House's response to--"

"We have no comment on the alleged incident in Palestine."

Well, that piqued his interest if the raised eyebrow is any indication. "The President doesn't care that Israeli soldiers--"

"Don't even try it," she interrupts. "When the White House has a comment, I'll let you know."

He stares at the floor for a moment, and CJ can pretty much see the wheels turning in his head. "When was the President informed of--"

"Steve."

"Levin didn't call?" he surmises, incredulous.

CJ just holds his gaze.

"Why not?"

"I don't have any information for you at this time." CJ knows just by looking at him that he's not going to let it go.

"Do you think that Prime Minister Levin didn't bother to call President Bartlet because the President's authority has been compromised by the Healthgate scandal?"

"That's an awfully large leap of illogic," she shoots back.

"Not really," he argues. "Israel considers the U.S. to be a close friend, and they know the President wants the peace treaty upheld. The least the Prime Minister could do is call the President before invading--"

"There's no evidence of any invasion."

"How would you know?" Steve fires back. "Levin didn't bother to call."

"This happened twenty minutes ago, Steve. It's a little too soon to be drawing any conclusions, don't you think?"

"Twenty minutes is long enough to place a phone call, CJ."

Shit.

CJ leans back in her chair, arms crossed in her best press-secretary-at-rest look. "Steve, you know as well as I do that the Prime Minister is under no obligation to consult or inform the President before Israeli law enforcement picks up a suspect. Further--"

"He really didn't call?" Steve can't seem to get past that.

"No, Prime Minister Levin hasn't yet contacted the President, and until he does, I can't comment on the incident."

Steve points at the TVs. "CJ, it's on CNN, BBC--"

"I'm aware of that. CNN, BBC, AP -- Hell, Fox News is free to speculate as wildly as it likes. The President of the United States does not have that luxury. Unless and until the President speaks with the Israeli Prime Minister, I'm not going to comment on the record."

"You're going to ignore--"

"Steve, seriously, go bother someone else. I'll page you when we have a comment."

Steve and CJ engage in a little bit of a staring contest. She wins, of course, mostly because she's too damn stubborn to blink.

Grudgingly, Steve leaves CJ's office, nodding to Josh on his way past.

Josh ignores CJ's irritated look and waltzes in, jabbing his thumb in Steve's direction. "The Mossad thing?"

CJ's office. Union Station. Some nights it's hard to tell the difference.

"Yeah," she answers. "He's curious why Levin didn't call."

Josh sighs. "CJ, you told him--"

"Yes, Josh, as soon as he walked in I said 'Guess what! The Prime Minister of Israel didn't bother to--'"

"Okay, okay," he says, hands up in surrender. "Whatever. Just -- what'd you tell him?"

"Kicked his ass a little when he tried to connect it to the MS story."

Groaning, Josh leans heavily against the doorframe. "He's suggesting that Levin didn't bother to call because the President's weak?"

"Pretty much."

"Great. That's just want we need--"

"Did you come in here for a reason?" she interrupts. She doesn't have the patience for his frustration, not when his irritation with Donna and her Republican is being misdirected right at CJ.

Josh blinks. "Yes. Leo called; the President's on the phone with Levin right -- Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"You stood here arguing with me for, like, ten minutes without telling me that?" CJ answers, pushing past him.

"Toby said he'd have something for you in a few minutes," Josh calls after her.

"Good, 'cause I've got some malleable white metal for him!"

"What?"

"Never mind," she mutters, reaching the door to the Communications bullpen, Donna's notes on tin clutched firmly in hand.

Toby's on the phone when she enters, occasionally scribbling notes on his ever-present legal pad. Sam is standing serenely behind him, ignoring the glares and rude gestures from Toby.

"Is that Leo?" she asks.

Sam nods. "Yeah, the President just spoke with Prime Minister Levin."

She makes a "come on" motion with her hand. "And?"

"Well, I'm not sure." He reaches over Toby's shoulder, easing the notepad towards him. "I can't quite read--"

Toby flips the legal pad so it's face down. "I'll tell her," he says into the phone. Then he disconnects and glares at Sam. "Have I not told you about reading over someone's shoulder?"

"You do it to me," Sam answers, defensive.

"You're subordinate to me. I can read over your shoulder if I damn well please."

"How is that fair? I mean--"

"Guys," CJ interrupts. "Mossad? Levin? Anyone remember that little issue?"

Toby focuses suddenly on CJ. "What happened?"

"Steve's trying to link the lack of a phone call -- And before you ask, no, I didn't tell him; he figured it out all by himself -- to the President's MS."

"Dammit," Toby mutters. "Can you convince him not to write it?"

"Yes, Toby, because reporters always seem to back off when I tell them not to write something."

"Right," he interrupts, waving me off.

"Perhaps the details of this particular incident would convince him not to write the MS angle," she points out.

Toby grins, that little smile he gets when he doesn't find the subject particularly amusing, and says, "It was an oversight."

CJ stares at him. "Excuse me?"

"Prime Minister Levin simply forgot to call the President, the events occurred quite rapidly, and his attention was on other matters."

She sighs. "What happened?"

Toby shrugs. "Pretty much what CNN reported: Mossad reacted to an attempt on Abdul Mujeeb's life. There was no incursion or invasion; a guy walked out of the crowd with a loaded Desert Eagle and started firing."

CJ flinches, and Sam looks a little pale. Because, really, that situation is a little bit too familiar for them to be completely objective. "Mossad got him?"

"Yeah, the shooter's in custody, as is Abdul Mujeeb. Some injuries in the crowd, one Mossad agent got shot in the leg. All in all, not a bad turnout, considering what could have happened."

Sam nods slowly. "Is Israel going to retaliate?"

"Doubtful," Toby says, and CJ can feel a fraction of the tension in her body ease. "If they'd lost any agents..." He shrugs.

"Okay," she says, turning the situation over. "This is workable. I can get Steve off the MS thing with the details. I'm going to give him the exclusive tonight."

Toby nods. "The President commends Prime Minister Levin on the adept handling of such a delicate situation."

"Right." CJ picks up the thread. "Mossad picked up a criminal and consequently defused a potentially explosive--" she stops, flinching. "Okay, poor choice of words. Potentially..."

"Volatile," Sam suggests.

"Good," Toby answers. "The President spoke briefly with Prime Minister Levin tonight to--"

"--offer his condolences on the lives lost in Israel, and his commendation on the speedy capture of Abdul Mujeeb," CJ finishes.

"Perfect." Sam grins.

Toby gives a small nod.

"Okay," CJ says. "I'm going to page Steve and see if I can't save this one."

When she reaches the door, she turns back, her pose casual. "Oh, and by the way, Toby, the abbreviation for Tin is 'Sn,' which is short for stannum. Also? Tin's atomic number is 50, its atomic weight is 118.71, and it's used in solder, bronze, pewter, and sometimes even in toothpaste."

"Toothpaste?" Sam asks, scrunching up his face in distaste.

"Yup," she tells him, sweeping out of the room. She's pretty sure that last thing says toothpaste; Donna's writing really is illegible.

"Fix it," Toby calls after me.

"Tin's oxidation states are +2 and +4."

"Fix it, CJ," he yells.

"I've got it all under control," she shouts back. And surprisingly, she thinks maybe she does.

THE END

11.15.01


End file.
